talking to my dad is a freaking minefield. Today at dinner I asked him if he’d ever been to New York City in the 90′s and he was like, “nope. Only in the 70′s to donate blood for my mom in the hospital while she was dying from leukemia.” I swear I didn’t even know my grandmother had leukemia (may she rest in peace). This is worse than the time I asked him if he’d ever had riding lessons and he said, “not since my childhood lesson pony burned to death in a barn fire in Kentucky.”
he just did it again! I was making small talk while we were carrying in the groceries like, “yeah I have a taser in my purse but I’ve never gotten to use it,” and he goes, “I’ve been tasered before it’s not fun. Neither was waterboarding.”
wtf dad
latest edition:
me: I found a bottle of vic’s vapo rub in the cabinet that expired in 2002 but it was fine.
my dad: Oh I don’t touch that stuff but guys I worked with used it to mask the smell of bodies that’d been dead for a while.
